Mid-Shipment
by Bookish Delight
Summary: Between having an evil pirate specter looking to curse her for all time, and being forced to team up with her arch-nemesis, Risky Boots's life is nothing but stress. But perhaps that arch-nemesis can help... if only for a fleeting moment.


**Notes:**  
I know I'm late to this party, but hey, a good game is good forever.

...I think.

* * *

Risky Boots wandered the lower decks of the Steam Powered Oceanic Tinker Tub (Mark 2: Now With Extra Steam) as rain fell over the high seas above.

The storm—if one could call it that—was nothing that would put herself, her ship, nor her traveling companion, in any real danger. Ironically, given her name, Risky was always one to make sure all factors surrounding her ship were conducive to smooth sailing before shoving off.

Still, even with no danger afoot, it was a shame, Risky thought. She often enjoyed staying up in the crow's nest after sunset—away from her crew and the noise of the world at sea level—to watch the stars appear in the sky, one by one. But given the rain, it looked like that wouldn't be an option tonight.

Instead, she only had the memories of those stars. Memories of a different time, long ago.

When she hadn't been herself.

Nor been allowed to _be_ herself.

Risky leaned against a nearby wall and sighed. She couldn't stop thinking about it. First her hat, then her pistol, now her sword. As she'd deduced, they'd been scattered around Sequin Land clearly as bait to catch her, and re-curse her. To take away her free will, make her a thrall of the malevolent Pirate Master once more.

On a base level, she could totally understand the Pirate Master wanting his stuff back. His men, his gear, everything she'd... commandeered, from him, when the Genies sealed him away years ago.

But why go the extra mile? Why go after Risky herself?

Risky hated not being able to figure things out. It caused a painful buzzing in her brain that took forever to die down. That pain, for better or worse, was interrupted by another. She recoiled from the sudden feeling of her hands stinging from her nails digging into them. She uncurled her fists on reflex, realizing that she'd been clenching them far too hard in her tumultuous thought.

No sooner had she done so than, out of the corner of her eye, she saw someone passing by, wearing her signature hat, and with her pistol at her hip. On instinct, Risky reached for her sword, which... was not there. Blast. Briefly, in the back of her mind, she remembered why, but let adrenaline propel her forward anyway, until she'd slammed into the passerby, pinning them to the wall beyond, her vision red and blurry for all of its one-track focus.

"What," Risky intoned in a low growl, meant to communicate that one wrong move would mean death where they stood, "are you doing. With my things."

"R-Risky?" a hoarse female voice echoed, barely registering in Risky's mind.

"That's _my_ name," Risky said, glaring. "You'll not take it as well. Use your own!"

"Come _on_, Risky, it's me, Shantae," the girl in front of Risky said, amidst stiff, desperate gasps. "You... told me to keep them. Pirate Master's curse, remember?" She managed a small smile from the corner of one lip. "I-I believe your words were, 'better you than me.'"

The red filter washed away from Risky's vision, allowing her to see the rest of the visible color spectrum—including the purple haired, brown-skinned, midriff-wearing ex-genie in front of her.

"Oh. Right."

Shantae _was_ right. That was something Risky had said, as her temporary solution for the thing she had literally just been thinking about, and been unable to stop thinking about. She let go of Shantae, wiping her clothes as she did so. "Yeah, well... never sneak up on a pirate. Don't they teach that in schools? If not, they should."

"I'm sorry," Shantae said, wiping her own clothes as well. "I was keeping the gear on to practice maintaining balance in the field." She fingered the hat on her head. "It's more than I'm used to wearing. But I can take them off if you want."

"What, you think seeing you with my gear on bothers me?" Risky scoffed. "It's fashionable enough to flatter even someone like you."

"I don't know if it bothers you?" Shantae said. "But I do know what it's like to no longer be able to embrace something that was always a part of you." Shantae averted her eyes from Risky's gaze. "It was like that for me when my genie powers were taken away. It... wasn't fun."

Risky recoiled. Oh no, she didn't. No _way _was this girl going to try to bring _that_ up now. She darted back in front of Shantae, turning her face so that they looked straight at each other.

"Don't you _dare_ try and guilt trip me," Risky said, through a growling sneer. She already felt the furnace in her mind, in her heart, getting hotter, as she heard the Pirate Master's laughing all around her.

And yet, perhaps even more vexing, the laughter was joined by another, quieter voice. It taunted Risky, nagged at her from in the back of her mind, and deep within the pit of her stomach. It taunted her with the very notion Risky didn't want to hear: the possibility that maybe, just maybe, Shantae had a point.

Risky's response was to get angrier, and for her voice to get harsher. She grabbed Shantae's collar, pulling her close.

"We're _nothing_alike, so don't even go there. The situation I'm in? Is nothing like what you _let me do_ _to you_ by not being good enough to stop me before. So shut up, and be a good little fetch girl, until I say otherwise!" Risky let go of Shantae with a huff.

All was silent except for the gentle rolling thunder of the storm outside. For a moment, Shantae looked crumpled, her eyes wide and her lips quivering.

Risky turned around. Ugh. Trying to work together with her nemesis had been the absolute _worst_ mistake. But at least the storm made it better. The light tapping of drops against the wood were soothing, and she could _almost_ feel a sense of calmness again.

In fact, so lost was she in the comfort of the storm that she didn't see or feel Shantae step forward, and place her hand on Risky's shoulder.

Risky froze, her breath hitching. Slowly, she turned around to see that Shantae's hurt look was gone, replaced with an encouraging, _disarming _smile.

"We'll get him, Risky," Shantae said. "We'll kick his butt. So you won't have to worry, one way or the other."

Another long, rainy silence passed before Risky replied, softly, as to almost blend in with the storm itself:

"It's not his butt I'm worried about."

Risky started to walk away. Where to, she had no idea. But she knew when she was handling a situation badly. However, she only got one step when she felt herself being pulled back. Shantae's hand had slid down to Risky's wrist, clasping it firmly, but gently.

"You will let go," Risky said, not turning around. "Now."

"No," Shantae said, with far more resolve than Risky had ever heard Shantae address her with—outside of one of their battles, of course. Shantae started walking, pulling Risky's wrist with her. Risky allowed herself to be led—out of momentary respect or morbid curiosity, she wasn't sure.

"You're going to bed," Shantae said, her voice far more gentle now.

"I'm not tired," Risky protested.

"I know you're not. At least not physically, since I'm the one who's been doing all the treasure hunting for dark magic and cursed clothes. But you've had an eternal sulk pasted on your face since our adventure started, and it's only gotten worse." The two stopped in front of the door to Risky's quarters, and Shantae opened it. "You've been running yourself emotionally ragged since the moment you realized the Pirate Master might return."

Risky didn't answer.

"You're no good to the mission like this," Shantae finished. "Much less to yourself. You need to relax. We both need to."

Risky scoffed, rolled her eyes, then walked into her room, closing the door behind her. She waited until she heard footsteps leaving, then walked to her dresser, rested on her palms, and looked in the mirror.

Great. Just what she needed right now: Patronization. Pity.

In hindsight, Risky decided, she had no one to blame but herself. There was no way Shantae could know the sheer magnitude of danger she was getting into, or treating so lightly. So many times she'd gotten in the way of Risky's schemes, perhaps even bested Risky on a couple of occasions by sheer luck—but even Risky had to admit when she was outgunned.

When they inevitably crossed paths, the Pirate Master would destroy Shantae. Utterly. Likely without even lifting a finger.

And then he would come after Risky, but instead of killing her... he would only make her _wish_ she was dead, for every waking moment thereafter.

_But no. _Clearly_ all we both need is a good night's sleep! _

A sniffle escaped Risky, despite her best efforts. Her head felt light and buzzing again, and she stepped back, sitting on the bed behind her, buying her head in her hands. Seriously, what kind of moron had she asked aboard her crew? She should have gone with her original instinct, and just _done this herself__— _

A knock sounded at her door. "Go away," Risky said, wiping her eyes.

"I'm sorry?" Shantae's voice was muffled through the door, but just barely understandable. "I can't quite hear you. Can you help me out with this? It's really hot and stuff."

Risky balled her fists and growled... then got up from the bed. She took a deep breath, walked over to, then opened, her door.

And the most _beautiful_ scent assaulted her nostrils.

If it were at all possible to smell the clouds of a winter night sky, while sitting in a fireplace-heated cabin curled up in a blanket, Risky could swear that she was smelling exactly that right now. It was the sweetest, most relaxing aroma she'd ever tasted.

"Wh-...wh-what _is_ that?" Risky sputtered.

"You've never had hot chocolate before?" Shantae said, holding two mugs of steaming liquid topped with whipped cream. She held one out to Risky. "Now I really am worried."

"I know what hot chocolate is!" Risky snapped. "I just... I've never smelled anything like—" She took the mug and sipped, realizing only afterwards that, were she and Shantae's positions reversed, poisoning would not have been out of the question.

Her eyes snapped wide open. It tasted as good, as sweet and light, as it smelled—no, _better_.

The world was making less sense to Risky by the minute. She'd stolen from the best, the richest and most powerful, and dined on the finest cuisine the seven seas had to offer! How was the entirety of her life experience being outdone by a single cup from some... some _nobody?_

"All right. I want to know _everything_ about what I just tasted," Risky said, not even bothering with her usual aloof facade. She sat back on her bed, motioning for Shantae to follow and sit beside her. "Start talking. Now."

Shantae giggled. "Back when I had powers, traveling and making international friends was a whole lot easier. The day this stuff came into my life, I made sure to stockpile. Preparation, however, is a Shantae secret." Shantae turned to face Risky. "It's also an invitation."

Risky sighed and rolled her eyes with a visible and audible amount of mock-drama. "This is the part where you try to get me to talk about my 'feelings,' isn't it? I tell you my backstory, then cry into your shoulders while you tell me it's all going to be okay, while at the same time convincing me to 'give up my wicked ways'?

Shantae's face crumpled, and she tittered, holding in laughter. "Sorry. That was just too perfect. Am I really that predictable?"

"Yes." Risky sighed. "But in this case, it's because better people than you have tried pulling similar tricks. Including me. While lying."

Shantae snickered. "I'm sure. But, I mean... everything you just said? If you ever want to do any of it..."

Risky downed the last of her hot chocolate. "I don't."

"And I figured you wouldn't." Shantae winked. "It's too early, anyway. I'm thinking, a couple more islands before you're ready to spill your guts. Four more before shoulder-crying."

Risky groaned and flopped back onto the bed. "I'm going to kill you while you sleep."

Shantae's grin was wide and toothy. "Okay. Have fun fighting all that 'curse from beyond the grave taking away your free will' stuff on your own."

Risky groaned louder.

"Anyway, when you _are_ ready to talk," Shantae said, "just let me know. Anytime, anywhere." She help up her mug. "We'll go somewhere no one can see us, I'll make some hot chocolate just like this... and you can trust me. Your secrets are my secrets. And no one else's."

Risky sat back up, and looked at her mug. "Does that go both ways?"

Shantae's smile turned mischievous. "Hmmm. Maybe. If you're good."

Risky sighed, mulling it over. She looked back at Shantae after several moments. Cheerful as ever. Risky wasn't sure whether to be annoyed at Shantae's naivete, or take comfort in her consistency.

It then occurred to Risky that Shantae's consistent smile was a mystery in itself. Inexplicable. Given the situation they were in, her attitude made zero sense whatsoever.

"You've earned one real question from me," Risky finally said. "No veiled threats—this time, anyway. But I'm curious about something."

Shantae seemed to jump at that. Ugh. "What is it?" She asked.

"Just... why are you so happy?" Risky asked. "I mean, it's like you said: I'm the one sending you to certain doom, yet I'm also the one who's been sulking like crazy between the both of us. Meanwhile, you rush onto every island I take us to with nothing more than an 'aye aye, cap'n!'—nice form by the way—and a huge smile, and you just... you just _do it_." She met Shantae's eyes of her own free will, for the first time that evening. "Why?"

And then, Risky Boots saw something impossible.

Shantae, the unflappable heroine of Scuttle Town, who'd bested Risky multiple times with nothing but parlor tricks, determination, and strategic use of hair... lost her smile. The same smile Risky had been complaining about this whole time.

In its place was the same confused, pensive, fearful expression Risky had been wearing since the start of their shared adventure. Of _course_ it would be like this. Risky finally got what she wanted... but it scared her.

Shantae stared at her own empty mug before answering with a soft, meek voice. "Because I have to."

Risky didn't reply.

"When the darkness of life's troubles threatens to close in on me or the people I care about," Shantae continued, "I dance. And through dancing, I remember how to smile. Some days it's enough. Other days..."

Shantae met Risky's eyes, and Risky saw a misty sadness deep within them that she never could have imagined the former half-genie to ever be capable of.

Maybe the two of them did have something in common, after all.

"Other days it isn't. Still, I've had time to get used to being vulnerable." Shantae's expression went from sorrowful to empathetic. "For you, though... it's been at least a while, hasn't it?"

Risky gulped, and nodded.

Shantae got up and walked to the door. "So I'll smile for both of us. Until yours comes back. "Good night, Risky," she said, before walking out.

Risky sat on her bed, staring at her empty hot chocolate mug.

Shantae was infuriatingly more right than she knew.

It _had_ been a while. The longest of whiles since Risky had known what it was like to have no control over any part of her life. Forced to serve another, pushing and straining against mental and magical bonds that refused to break.

The star-filled memories rushed back to the front of Risky's mind. Memories of looking to those stars, her entire body aching, screaming, crying for some means, any way at all, to escape to them.

She would never let anyone else go through what she did. Not even her traveling mate, rivals or not. And when Risky finally conquered the world, she could set the rules to make absolutely sure of it.

Risky got up from her bed, left her room, walked to the guest cabin, and knocked on the door. Moments later, she was face-to-face with her "nemesis" once more. Risky huffed and scratched her head, gathering her words.

"Look, just so you don't get the wrong idea, I meant what I said not too long ago. You make for a terrible pirate." Risky counted on her fingers. "You're far too trusting, far too compassionate, far too willing to compromise with authority, and you blindly charge in whatever direction you're pointed to while almost never asking questions. If the thought of becoming a pirate, at any time, ever crossed your mind, don't bother, because—and take it from an expert on the subject—you absolutely _suck_ at it."

Shantae opened her mouth to speak—but Risky held up her hand, her expression slowly softening.

"But as far as first mates go... I've had worse."

Realization slowly dawned on Shantae... then, wide-eyed jubilant hope. Risky scoffed, rolled her eyes, and handed Shantae her mug. "Add rum next time."

The moment she heard Shantae squeal, Risky closed the door in her face, and walked back to the captain's quarters, a smile crossing her face as she did so.

Perhaps, together, they stood the tiniest of chances.


End file.
